Like A Family
by Slivering
Summary: A series of one-shots featuring the Echizen family. Latest Update: Ryoma is scared of needles, and unfortunately for him, his father is determined to make him get one.
1. Fever Part One

**Like A Family**

* * *

'Installment One'

* * *

_-Nanjiroh and Ryoma-_

* * *

"Che, that son of mine still not awake?" Nanjiroh yawned, stretching his arms over his head before scratching his butt. His gaze landed sleepily on the staircase, almost as if he was willing for his 12-year old brat to magically appear on the steps.

He took a bite out of his cold toast, before yelling through a mouthful, "Ryoma! C'mon, kid, you're gunna be late!"

Personally, he didn't find himself fit for the job of waking up his son. Naturally, he _wouldn't _have even bothered or noticed that his boy wasn't awake. Normally, he would have been at the temple tapping the bell and snoozing his ass off. But since Ryoma's last report card with _20 _late marks had come to Rinko's attention, she had decided that if Ryoma couldn't wake himself up, it would become Nanjiroh's job to do so for him.

"Arghhh, that stupid boy. Can't he hear me hollerin' like this?" Nanjiroh crammed the rest of the toast in his mouth, took a long gulp of milk, before storming up the stairs, muttering nonsense about 'being too old to do these kinds of things'.

"I swear, one day I'll just set up an alarm clock that hits his face with a tennis ball every morning." Nanjiroh uttered to himself as he slipped down the corridor. "That'll wake him up, natural instincts and all."

He stomped through the half-open door of Ryoma's room, striding past his tennis uniform lying in a heap on the ground, the extra racket floored aimlessly at the door for someone to trip, and Karupin who was curled by his bed.

"Ne, Ryoma? If you want to play a match with your old' man today, you better w_ake _up." Nanjiroh threatened, throwing the blankets off of the bed. The moment his gaze settled on Ryoma, he stopped mid-seething and involuntarily smiled. _Still such a kid, _he thought.

Ryoma was dressed in his loose light blue pajamas, his arms curled around his pillow, clutched tightly to his face. Under his breath, he muttered, "Mada Mada Dane…" as he shifted position.

Nanjiroh smirked, admiring his son's aptly young, cute, yet handsome features. They weren't sharp, due to his age, but it was enough to get the girl's going. Being a tennis regular as a freshman was just an added bonus. "Heh, whatta kid." His upturned lips quickly became a scowl. "However, if this kid doesn't get up soon, he's gunna be late."

Taking a stray pillow, he threw it hard at Ryoma's face.

That got the boy up. His eyes fluttered open, revealing two large golden orbs. He jerked upright to a sitting position, snapping out of his daze in a flash, and glaring viciously at his father. "Oyajii!" he complained, but Nanjiroh was already walking out the door, chuckling to himself. His humming floated out the door as he disappeared down the stairwell, leaving a very annoyed and sleepy Ryoma shouting curses in his head.

_Hn. Annoying Oyajii. _

He paused, glancing out the window.

He didn't feel too good.

* * *

Nanjiroh was just about to leave the house in search of a good spot to lie down, relax, and read his new magazine edition, when his son came down the stairwell. He snickered, rolling the magazine up so his innocent-minded boy wouldn't get corrupted, and decided to indulge in some teasing before he left.

"Ryoma, better move it. School's got a policy of being late too many times." Nanjiroh said smoothly. "Apparently you get kicked out of club activities."

_And that's a total lie, _Ryoma thought to himself as he grasped onto the railing. God, he was tired today. Probably from the extra hard training menu Inui had set up for the regulars, determined to help them get in better shape. It was leaving his body sore all over.

"Ryoma, don't ignore your father!" Nanjiroh grinned. "It's disrespectful."

He saw Ryoma twitch. He really did enjoy getting on the boy's nerves.

"Mada Mada Dane." The preteen muttered as he strode past his father and towards the kitchen. He stumbled slightly, before catching his footing and continuing to the table. Nanjiroh caught the slight sway in his step and frowned.

"Ryoma, hold on." Nanjiroh laughed, running towards his son. He grabbed his shoulders and turned him around for inspections. "Somethin's off."

Ryoma opened his mouth to say that he was _fine,_ but Nanjiroh was observing him so keenly he swallowed and looked at the floor. His father stared at him for a good few seconds before bursting into a fit of laughter.

"Bwuahahahaha!" he clutched at his stomach. "You- my son…hahahaha, I can't believe you're _blushing_."

Ryoma stared at his father for a long moment, wondering if he had gone crazy. Or insane. With his lips pressed in a thin line, he wiped his brow. _Geez, it's cold in here. Can Oyajii not even afford heating anymore? _He shivered in his school uniform, wondering why he was sweating when it was freaking freezing in the house.

"I'm not blushing," Ryoma said in his defense.

His father continued to cackle like a maniac, leaving Ryoma rubbing his temples. _Ugh, all this nonsense is giving me a headache. _Determined to prove his father wrong, Ryoma went to the full-body mirror adjusted in front of the closet.

His eyebrows rose in surprise.

His father was right.

He was blushing.

Well, technically, he wasn't _blushing._ His face was simply flushed pink.

After Nanjiroh had finally caught his breath, he wiped a stray hysterical tear from his eye and chuckled. "So, kid, you finally in love or something?" With that, he started to laugh hard all over again.

Ryoma stared at his father, before shivering again because he was so damn cold. He ignored Nanjiroh's 'love' comment and asked, "Ne, can you put the heating on or something? It's cold in here."

Nanjiroh's laughing slowed down to a trickle. "It's not cold."

"Yes it is."

"No. You're sweating."

Ryoma shot his father a frustrated look. "Well, I don't care. _I'm cold._"

Nanjiroh was still smiling but his eyebrows furrowed as realization started to dawn on him. _No way, _he thought. _He hasn't been sick since he was like 5-years old… _A sly grin formed on his face and he gave Ryoma a look that said 'I know something you don't' which irritated Ryoma beyond belief. "C'mere." Nanjiroh declared.

"Nanda?"

"Just c'mere for a sec."

Ryoma crossed his arms, mainly to ward off the cold, before stiffly walked towards his father. He wasn't sure exactly what was up and why his dad was grinning like an idiot, but he was cold, tired, and had a headache, and was in _no _mood to be his father's teasing toy. Nanjiroh, to Ryoma's complete and utter surprise, laid a hand on his forehead.

Ryoma scowled. "What are you-"

"Aha!" Nanjiroh cut in, a smug grin plastered on his face. "You have a fever!"

With that declaration, Nanjiroh removed his hand and observed his son's reaction. Ryoma stared at him with wide, blinking eyes. He wasn't sure if he'd heard his father right. A _fever_? He didn't…he didn't get fevers. He always suspected it was something about his wonderful health and immune system that he lacked ever getting sick – whatever it was, he appreciated it.

Being sick meant… - Ryoma inwardly shuddered - …not playing tennis.

He knew his father was right, though. It kind of made sense why he was shivering like crazy yet sweating buckets. And felt dead tired. But the words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"I'm not sick."

Nanjiroh raised an eyebrow. "Now, I'm not stupid son. I know a fever when I see one."

"Well, whatever." Ryoma decided. "Just let me eat so I'm not late for school."

He tried to brush past his father towards the table chair but his father clapped a hand on his shoulder and stopped him. "Woah kid, Whaddya mean 'school?'. You're sick, which means ya stay home."

Ryoma stared at him in disbelief. "No…" he said bluntly. "No way."

"Why?" Nanjiroh seemed surprised. His lips quirked upwards. "Hn. School that fun?"

"The inter-school ranking tournament's today."

"Oh? What's so important about that?"

Ryoma glared at his father.

_And the last thing I want to do is get booted off the regulars team for not showing up. _

"I have to go." Ryoma stated clearly, before wiping his brow and swallowing thickly. It really was cold in here – cold and hot. He felt kind of queasy too; probably for talking to his father for so long. "Um, what's for breakfast?"

"Stubborn, stubborn." Nanjiroh rolled his eyes. "Fine, go to school. Che, don't tell me when you faint in the middle of a match."

Ryoma resisted scowling again. "What's for breakfast?" he repeated.

Nanjiroh ignored him and started walking towards the fridge, humming loudly.

_Stupid Oyajii…_

* * *

Waffles.

Ryoma's stomach lurched.

Syrup.

_Oh man, I don't feel good. _

Ryoma stared at his food with a weary expression, pressing his fork into the golden, sugary waffles laid out on his plate. His father, being a lazy ass, had made the easiest thing he could. Pop waffles in the toaster and pour a crap load of syrup on top.

He felt dizzy and weak and the food looked so disgusting that he was ready drink Inui Juice instead. Or actually, maybe not. The thought of the horrifying liquid made the colour drain from his face and he pushed his plate away.

Nanjiroh was shoving old sushi in his mouth. When he saw his son push his plate away, he frowned. "Eat, kid. You'll need the energy to play tennis today."

Ryoma summoned a glower towards his father, before sighing. Biting his lip, he poked his fork into a piece of waffle and popped it in his mouth.

He chewed.

It tasted like cardboard.

He chewed some more.

And suddenly, Ryoma's stomach couldn't take it anymore. Leaping out of his chair, he ran to the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet. He threw up a little bit – not much because he hadn't eaten anything to _really _throw up – and heaved.

Breathing hard, he closed his eyes and cleared the toilet. His fingers clutched the fabric of his own shirt as he tried to regain his composure.

_I really shouldn't go to school today…_

_But the inter-school ranking tournament…_

Nanjiroh popped his head into the washroom door. He tried to hide his concern but it showed in his voice anyway. "Hey, what…didjya throw up or somethin'?"

"Yes." Ryoma said stiffly. He stood up and tried to look balanced, but he really did feel like he was going to fall over any minute.

Nanjiroh frowned, and this time, when he spoke, his voice sounded unusually strict. "I don't care if the ranking tournament is today. You're staying home."

"Demo-"

"You don't have another choice. Rinko would kill me if I let you go to school like this." Nanjiroh didn't mention that he was worried about Ryoma – their relationship just didn't work like that.

But he knew his eyes gave it away anyway.

… _To be continued…_

* * *

**So, this is a series of family one-shots, involving Rinko, Nanjiroh. Ryoga, and yours truly, Ryoma! This one-shot turned out longer than I intended to so I decided to split it into two parts.**

**The second part will be the next chapter…so like, Fever Part Two…but most of them will be one-shots, or two part one-shots. **

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed and feel free to leave a comment!**


	2. Fever Part Two

**Like A Family**

* * *

'Installment One, Part Two'

* * *

_-Nanjiroh and Ryoma-_

* * *

Nanjiroh bit his lip as he watched Ryoma stumble to his feet and flush the toilet. The sound drowned out the faint noise of his son coughing. It was truly unusual to see Ryoma look so- well, so disheveled. His hair looked like it hadn't been combed in years and his white dress shirt drooped off of his shoulder. Paleness coloured his face with a flush on the bridge of his nose.

The man swallowed. He really wished Rinko was home at the moment. She was better at the whole coddling thing.

"Well, you look awful." Nanjiroh finally said.

Ryoma would scowl but he couldn't be bothered right now. He just wanted to collapse onto his bed. "If I'm not going to school, can I go to sleep now?"

"Hn…funny, you're asking permission for something you can obviously do yet you rebel when you're about to do something absurd."

"When did I ever do anything absurd?" Ryoma asked irritably. He wiped a thin sheen of sweat from his forehead, shifting impatiently. He felt goddamn tired and his father was honestly getting on his nerves. Ugh, and he felt gross even though he'd just taken a shower. "And how do I stop sweating?"

Nanjiroh looked amused. "How do you stop sweating? You're sick Ryoma. You don't stop."

The boy frowned. "I feel gross though."

"Aww, my poor baby feels gross because he's sick with a fever and drenched in sweat." Nanjiroh mocked. "Poor kid, what will he _ever_ do?"

Ryoma glared at him. "You're awful."

Nanjiroh sighed. He didn't know how else to respond to his son – he knew he should be more on the comforting, gentle side when Ryoma was sick, but it wasn't something he was used to. After all, once Ryoma hit a certain age, their interaction pretty much became distinct teasing. "Fine, go upstairs and settle into bed. I'll see what I can do."

Ryoma doubted his father would do anything but go back into the kitchen and read his magazines, but at this point, he didn't really care. To the wonderful, welcoming bed it was.

* * *

Five minutes on the bed, and Ryoma was really considering taking another shower. He felt like he was soaked in sweat. Due to this, Ryoma had even thrown the blankets onto the floor, ignoring the fact that he was shivering like crazy. He groaned and rolled over on his side. Who _knew_ being sick sucked this much?

He stared as Karupin played with his toy on the ground next to him. "Lucky Karu," the boy muttered. He was too tired to reach out and pet the cat. "I bet he's never got sick before…"

"Ryoma." There was a knock on the door.

"Oyaji? What do you want?" Ryoma grumbled.

The door creaked open and his father strolled inside with a grin on his face. Ryoma noted that he was still carrying around his stupid porn magazine. In his other hand, however, was a white towel soaked with water.

"It's a wet cloth." Nanjiroh said, proud of thinking of something to help his son. Rinko would be pleased.

"I can see that." Ryoma rolled his eyes. "A wet cloth. How fascinating."

"It's for your forehead, not to drool over." Nanjiroh said. Ryoma tensed as his father walked over and placed the cloth over his forehead. He immediately relaxed when the cool wetness spread across his sweaty skin and made him sigh in relief. It actually felt really, really nice. He muttered a 'thanks' in English under his breath before shifting into a comfortable position.

He waited for his dad to go out of the room, but was surprised when Nanjiroh pulled out his swivel chair and sat in the corner of the room reading his magazine.

_He's staying-? _

_Great, now I can't even groan freely if I need to._

The boy shivered and changed positions once again. He didn't understand how fevers worked. How come he was so cold when he looked like he'd been thrown in a pool of sweat? Ryoma buried his face in his pillow but couldn't do anything about the cool air hitting his neck and slivering into his skin.

Shiver. Turnover. Shiver. Turnover. It had become a pattern.

Nanjiroh sighed, putting his magazine down and standing up. "Stupid boy, if you're so cold why don't you just get up and get yourself a blanket?" he mumbled. He was pretty sure Ryoma hadn't heard him. Heaving himself to his feet, Nanjiroh grabbed the blanket off the ground.

He walked over to the edge of Ryoma's bed and carefully draped it over his son's shaking body.

Ryoma immediately curled the blanket tightly around his body and snuggled his chin under it, warmth filling his insides. Nanjiroh snorted, but couldn't help smiling. _His son was a brat. An adorable brat._

"You know, if you had any intelligence, you would have got the blanket yourself instead of waiting for me to get it." Nanjiroh said pointedly.

Ryoma peeked out from the blankets innocently. "It slipped my mind."

Nanjiroh raised an eyebrow.

"It's doesn't help that my head feels like it's being chopped by a chainsaw." Ryoma muttered in answer to the questioning gaze. Again, Nanjiroh felt like he had to do something to help his son. He reminded himself it was all so he could avoid Rinko's wrath, but he knew he just didn't want to see Ryoma suffer. The boy was special to him, despite the way they acted around each other.

"Do you want an aspirin?" Nanjiroh finally sighed out.

"No. Give me a head massage." Ryoma demanded.

Nanjiroh narrowed his eyes. "Hell no."

Ryoma shrugged. It was worth a try. He watched as his father went out of the room, humming something about "gettin' an' aspirin." He came back up moments later with a glass of water and a small tablet in his hand.

Swiftly, he was back at his son's bedside. "Here ya go…"

"I can't…hold the glass." Ryoma said in a childish voice, adding an eye-widen for effect. Being sick felt horrible but he had quickly learned that he was going to use this to his advantage and get his father to do everything for him. "It might fall…since my hands are so shaky…"

He whimpered for a good measure.

Nanjiroh looked at him wearily, before dropping his shoulders. "If you insist." He lifted his son's chin gently and placed the tablet in his mouth, before pouring a bit of water down his throat. Ryoma swallowed and smirked innocently. Even though he still felt uncomfortable, he could get used to this service. He hadn't even moved an inch and he'd gotten a drink of water and headache relief.

"Thank you." He said cheekily.

Nanjiroh made an annoyed sound before plopping back down on his chair to read (er, stare). He was engrossed in his beautiful girls for a nice ten minutes when the sweet silence was interrupted by the weak calling of Ryoma.

"Oyaji…" he complained in a small voice. "My back hurts. And so does my neck. And so do my shoulders."

Nanjiroh placed his magazine in his lap. "So? It's not like you're doing anything rough right now. Take a nap and you'll be fine."

Ryoma frowned. "Give me a massage."

"I already said no."

"I'll tell kaa-san you were being mean to me when I was sick…"

Nanjiroh wondered if he was imagining the evil glint in Ryoma's eyes. With a brusque shake of his head, the man stood up and trudged over to his grinning-with-triumph son. "Roll over." He grunted. Ryoma eagerly turned onto his back. In less than a split second, he felt strong hands move expertly up and down his back, skillfully relieving his muscles aches.

Ryoma inhaled happily, resting his cheek on the side of his pillow and closing his eyes. Now, _this_ was definitely the life. It's not like he'd been lying or anything. His muscles did hurt pretty badly, all stiff and weary – it felt nice when his father massaged him. Plus, he had the –I'll-tell-Kaa-san- advantage now. He could get his father to do practically anything he wanted.

After a little while of massaging, Ryoma fell asleep. Nanjiroh watched with soft eyes as his son breathed in and out with gentle innocence on his face.

"Still so young." He muttered fondly. Quietly, he slipped out of the room and closed the door behind him, mentally reminding himself to check on him in an hour or so.

* * *

Nanjiroh was halfway through the latest edition of his second magazine when the shuffling of footsteps interrupted him. He looked up. Ryoma weakly stumbled down the stairs, his hands grasped around the railing for support. His hair was even messier than before and the flush on his face seemed to have risen.

"Hey kid. Enjoy your nap?"

Ryoma trudged over and slid into the dining room chair. He immediately buried his face in his hands. "M'tired. Headache still won't go away. Wanna play tennis now."

Nanjiroh grinned at his childish attitude. "You know you can't play tennis when you're this tired." His expression changed to concern. "You still have a headache?"

"A little bit." Ryoma yawned. He frowned. "I think I should sleep again."

"Yeah, maybe." Nanjiroh was done with the teasing for the moment. His son looked exhausted. The father glanced at the clock. "It's a little past lunch. You wanna have a bite to eat? You didn't have anything for breakfast either."

Ryoma's stomach churned queasily at the mention of lunch. "No…no way."

"You really should eat something though. It'll give you some energy."

"No." Ryoma said, sleepiness in his voice. He weakly rested his head against his arms. "I don't want to eat a thing. I'll just throw it back up."

"It's necessary."

"No."

"Ryoma, don't be stubborn."

"I said no."

Nanjiroh sighed, probably for the umpteenth time that day. He gave his son a look that said 'suit yourself' and turned back to finish his magazine, flipping through the pages with ease. A few moments passed and Ryoma got annoyed of being ignored. He was sick, wanted attention, and decided he deserved to be spoiled.

"I'm thirsty." He announced.

"Then get off your ass and get a glass of water." Nanjiroh said.

Ryoma frowned. He got up and tiredly made his way to the fridge, steadying himself by holding onto the table. Opening the fridge, he scanned over the contents until he found a pitcher of lemonade. Ryoma rubbed his eyes – god, he felt so dizzy and weak. Quickly, he grabbed the handle of the pitcher and slammed the fridge door shut.

His hands shook from the cold and he tightened his grip around the lemonade.

"Lemonade, huh?" Nanjiroh said. "Couldn't go for something simple like water?"

"It looked the most appealing." Ryoma stopped and huffed. As he did that, his hands suddenly gave away and the pitcher of lemonade slipped from his grip and dropped to the ground. There was a deafening crash as glass splattered onto the ground, yellow liquid oozing out.

Nanjiroh yelped, jumping to his feet. Ryoma just stood there with wide eyes and slight tremors running through his body.

"What the hell-" He glanced at his son. Ryoma ducked his head down. "I'm sorry, I'll clean it up-"

Nanjiroh's eyes softened. He walked over and gently pushed Ryoma back into his chair. "No, you will not clean it up. You're sick." His gaze never left his son's. Ryoma looked at the mess on the ground and frowned deeply. He looked so upset over the small incident that Nanjiroh was surprised. He ruffled Ryoma's hair. "Geez, you get sensitive when you're sick."

Ryoma glared at him and Nanjiroh instantly took back what he said. That kid had a killer look.

"Look, I'll clean it up. For now, I'll give you a glass of water to drink, 'kay?" Nanjiroh turned towards the sink. As he ran the water, he looked over his shoulder.

"Oh, and Ryoma…this nice treatment only lasts until you're better."

Ryoma rolled his eyes. "Good. It's sickening."

Nanjiroh spent ten minutes making sure the floor was clear of glass and mopped up the lemonade. Ryoma had got through three glasses of water while he'd done so, thirsty and glad to have the cool feeling run down his throat. Too tired to go back upstairs, he fell asleep at the kitchen table.

His father smiled and carded his fingers through the boy's hair. Without a second thought, he scooped the boy into his arms bridle style and climbed up the stairs. When they reached Ryoma's room, he carefully placed him back into his bed, tucking him in with blankets. Gently, he lay his hand back on Ryoma's forehead and sighed in relief. The fever was going down.

The older man stared at his son for a long moment, feeling a little bit of fondness, a little bit of nostalgia, and a little bit of love all in one. It was rare for him to feel this way about anything in general – he wasn't a very serious, sentimental person – but today Ryoma really had managed to pull some heartstrings.

"Eh, I'm getting soft." Nanjiroh yawned, stretching his arms. He walked into the corner of the room and flipped open to the last page of his magazine, golden sunlight basking his cheeks until evening.

* * *

**That was just fun to write. xD I tried not to make Ryoma too childish, but when he's sick, I can't help it. I just imagine all the cute things he would do, but since I didn't want it to be TOO OOC, I tried my best to balance out my temptations. **

**Anyway, thanks for all the support so far! This will be a series of one-shots involving all the family members at some point. Although this one only involved Nanjiroh and Ryoma, most of them will be different. I'm not sure if Nanako will be in it though…xDDD**

**THANK YOU FOR READING! **


	3. Dumped

**Like A Family  
**

* * *

'Installment Two'

* * *

_-Ryoma and Ryoga-_

* * *

Ryoma dropped his video game in delight as soon as he heard the doorbell ring. He didn't show his pleased expression on his face, but he was actually quite happy that his brother was finally home. The older boy had been out the entire day, and Ryoma had had to settle for playing video games until he came back. Although he wouldn't admit it, Ryoma had gotten used to Ryoga being home to keep him company.

Standing up, Ryoma made his way to the front hallway. His brother was taking off his shoes on the mat. "How was your date?"

Ryoga didn't say anything. He solemnly hung up his coat and turned towards the stairwell.

"Uh, Nii-san?" Ryoma twitched. Had his brother just full-out ignored him? Before he could repeat his question or deter something out of the older boy, his mother shuffled in the room with a pan in one hand. She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead and smiled warmly at Ryoga's retreating figure.

"Oh, dear, you're back. How'd the date go? You and Hiromi were having difficulties, right? But I'm assuming it's all smoothed out now?"

Ryoga stopped halfway up the stairs. His back tensed. "It went fine."

"Nii-san-" Ryoma tried again. He was cut off.

"_Shut up._" Ryoga snapped in annoyance. "Nobody asked you."

In less than a split second, he was walking up the stairs again, faster now. Ryoma blinked in confusion as Ryoga disappeared around the corner, probably to the bedroom they shared. His mother looked concerned as she tapped her fingers against the rusty kitchen utensil, chewing on her lower lip worriedly. When she saw Ryoma studying her, she smiled reassuringly.

"I guess his date didn't go all too well."

Ryoma nodded slowly. "Guess not."

"Don't worry about him, hm sweetie. I think he just needs to be alone for a bit. It's best you try not to bother him while he's in this mood."

"Yeah, tch, what's his issue anyway…"

"Exactly. You just let him be and I'm sure he'll be as good as happy when dinner comes around." She grinned. "Your brother's a fast healer."

Ryoma didn't respond as his mother disappeared back into the kitchen, humming an unfamiliar tune under her breath. The twelve-year old glanced up at the staircase again. He couldn't shake the feeling that his mother was wrong this once – Ryoga never snapped irritably at him unless he did something horrible or if Ryoga was having one of his famous mood swings.

His mother had told him to 'leave Ryoga alone'.

_Hn. Yeah, right. _

Ryoma started up the stairwell with determination in his eyes.

* * *

Pausing only for a second in front of the door, Ryoma quickly flung it open before shutting it behind him with a soft thud. From his vision, he could see Ryoga lying on his bed with his face buried in his hands and a pillow on his lap. For a moment, the smaller boy wondered if his brother was crying – but quickly scratched that out when Ryoga looked up at him with a glare.

"Get out."

Ryoma shrugged. "It's my bedroom too."

Ryoga really looked pissed off now. "There's a thing called knocking. And privacy. And personal time to be alone. Ever heard of those?"

"Maybe. But it's my bedroom too. If you wanted to be alone, you shoulda locked yourself in the bathroom."

"Maybe I should, then."

"Go ahead."

The two siblings silently scowled at one another, Ryoma still standing, Ryoga leaning against the headboard. Then, before the latter could react, the former strode up to him in four long strides and plopped down onto the bed next to him. Ryoma snuggled up beside his brother, pulling his legs to his chest and resting his chin on his knees.

There was silence.

"Exactly what _are_ you doing?" Ryoga finally asked, his tone edgy.

Ryoma didn't bat an eyelash. "What happened on your date?"

"None of your fucking business."

The younger boy winced. Ryoga rarely swore unless he was really, _really_ upset about something. Ryoma remembered when Ryoga's pet fishy died and the older boy had sent the house into chaos by cursing every two words to try to let his frustration out. Not pleasant, Ryoma decided.

"Just tell me." Ryoma rolled his eyes. "Don't make me sit here all day."

"Nobody fucking asked you to come and sit here."

Yup, he was definitely upset. Ryoma nudged him. "Stop swearing. You're corrupting me."

Ryoga glared viciously at him, but slowly, his features softened. He sighed and leaned his head back, exhaling loudly. He gripped the pillow in his lap tightly. "You really wanna know, huh?"

A nod. "I'm curious."

"Well…it's...I don't…Chibisuke…you…" Ryoga groaned. He wanted to smack his head against the wall. He muttered another curse, before finally speaking. "It's kind of horrible."

Ryoma raised an eyebrow. "I figured that out."

"You don't get it. My life is ruined."

"Che, don't be dramatic."

"_Ruined_, I tell you."

The preteen wondered why he'd come up here to talk to his older brother in the first place. Ryoga was obviously having issues and didn't seem like he was going to say what happened anytime soon, so the younger boy figured he might as well leave. After all, the only reason he was up here was to get Ryoga to play a tennis match with him. He was definitely not concerned about his brother. Most definitely _not._

Just as Ryoma was about to get out of the bed, Ryoga spoke.

"She dumped me."

Ryoma blinked. "Huh?"

"She dumped me." Ryoga repeated.

Ryoma tilted his head slightly. "Who, that poor Hiromi girl you seduced a couple months back?"

"I didn't _seduce _her,geez. And yeah, Hiromi-chan. I don't even get it. I actually _liked_ her."

"So…she broke up with you?"

"Pretty much."

Ryoma nodded thoughtfully. "Smart girl. Very smart gir- Ow!"

Rubbing the sore spot where Ryoga had hit him on the arm, Ryoma smirked at Ryoga evilly. Ryoga just shot him a look before burying himself further into the blankets and groaning about the fact that 'girls didn't break up with _him_, it was the other way around,' and that 'Hiromi-chan had been such a cutie.' And even though Ryoga was acting a little casual about the whole ordeal, Ryoma could tell his brother cared about Hiromi.

"What does Hiromi-san look like?" Ryoma finally asked.

Ryoga made a noise before shuffling about his pocket to pull out his phone. Silently, with a pained expression, the older boy shoved the screen picture in Ryoma's face.

On the screen was a girl with long blue hair and bright eyes, a soft smile graced on her face. Ryoma examined the picture.

"As I thought," Ryoma said. "She's much too good for you."

"Chibisuke!"

Ryoma snickered as his brother fell back onto the bed with a grunt, a look of mock-betrayal plastered on his face. Ryoma hugged his pillow to his chest and crawled over to his brother, his face loomed over. He shoved Ryoga's shoulder. "Are you really upset about her?"

"Exceptionally." Ryoga closed his eyes. He breathed in sharply. "I feel lifeless without her."

"Che, and here I was thinking you were independent and all."

"Stop it." Ryoga frowned. "You're being mean."

"You're being grumpy."

"_I'm _the one who got dumped here. I'm allowed to be grumpy. _You_ have no reason whatsoever to be mean."

Ryoma smirked. "How about we play a match of tennis? That'll cheer you up."

"_Selfish _brat." Ryoga muttered in reply. "You're just saying that so I play with you. Nothing can cheer me up."

Ryoma sighed. He hugged his knees again and let his eyes wander. He stared at the posters of sports players Ryoga had hung up, then to the cell phone sprawled open on the bed. The screen image of Hiromi stared back at Ryoma. He bit his lip.

"You know, Nii-san…she's not even that pretty."

"Shut up."

"I'm serious. You could do better – _marginally,_ yes – but definitely better."

Ryoga snorted, but a small smile played on his lips. "Awhile ago you said she was much too good for me. What happened to that?"

"The longer you stare at her, the uglier she gets."

"Chibisuke!"

Much to Ryoma's surprise, Ryoga tackled him into a brotherly embrace, ruffling his hair and grinning from ear to ear. "You're such a smartass, you know that? You go around giving everybody sass."

Ryoma grumbled something under his breath as his brother continued to play with his hair and rub his head with his knuckles. He hadn't been Ryoga's brother for this many years for nothing – Ryoma knew exactly how to cheer Ryoga up when he was upset. It was easy, really. Just being mouthy worked. It wasn't in Ryoma's personality to speak this much, but he knew Ryoga secretly loved whenever he dissed people he disliked. For example, ex-girlfriends like Hiromi.

"Did I cheer you up?" Ryoma finally asked.

"Nope." Ryoga said, but his smile said otherwise.

"Fine. What would cheer you up?"

Ryoga thought for a long moment. He snapped his fingers and smiled evilly at Ryoma.

"Well, you know, I always _have _wanted to see you dance before…"

* * *

**Yeah, I definitely have no life. I think I'm becoming a writing machine or something. Well, that'll probably stop soon. Today's my last day of Christmas break, so expect much slower updates once school starts. I'll try my best to update like crazy on the weekends…sorry if the last sentence was lame to the absolute limit…humour is not my forte… was Ryoma OOC? I feel like he was. I feel like they both were. Plus, I feel like the ending sucked. Or maybe I'm just being too critical. I guess I'll see you later!**


	4. Report Cards

**Like A Family**

'Installment Two'

* * *

_-Ryoma, Ryoga, and Rinko -_

* * *

"Do we _have _to wait 'till Chibisuke wakes up?"

"He'll be awake soon enough. Can't you hear the shower running upstairs?"

Ryoga grumbled something under his breath and stared at his bowl of cereal. This was why he hated the ritual of waiting until everyone was at the table to eat. His breakfast was beckoning him, his stomach rumbled, and the cereal was getting soggy – but _no_, he had to wait for the insolent little brat to awake. His father had already left early, so Ryoga didn't see why _he _had to eat with Ryoma when Nanjiroh didn't.

"Kaa-san, the cereal's getting soggy," Ryoga complained. "And you know how Chibisuke is. He takes like _two _hours in the shower."

Rinko smiled from her place by the sink. "Just wait, dear. And I know Ryoma has a habit of taking too long in the shower. I'll talk to him about it when he comes downstairs."

"Hmph." Ryoga poked his spoon around the bowl. "You shouldn't just talk to him about it, you should seriously punish him. I'm not joking. I've heard you and Oyaji complaining about the water bills."

Rinko laughed heartily. "I should punish Ryoma for taking too long in the shower?"

"He's _wasting_ water, the environment, and our money!"

Before Rinko could reply, the conversation was intercepted by none other than Ryoma himself. "Good morning." He yawned, walking in dressed in a shirt and black shorts, his hair damp from the shower. He pulled out his chair and slid into his seat beside Ryoga, eyes drooping tiredly. He simply wasn't a morning person.

"Good morning," Ryoga mimicked in a high-pitched voice. He growled, "How dare you sound so innocent when you've just made me starve for the past hour-"

"You were not _starving_," Rinko gently cut in.

"I was." Ryoga shot back, still glaring at Ryoma.

Ryoma looked at him wearily. "What did I do?"

"Did you just _not_ hear what I said?!"

"No. Now shut up, you're too loud for the morning."

"Morning," Ryoga sneered. "Try afternoon."

Rinko rolled her eyes as her sons bickered amongst each other. She truly didn't understand the point of arguing about such pointless things, but apparently they found it sensible. And, of course, Ryoga usually started the fight, which was a little sad because Ryoma was years younger than him yet acted more mature. Then again, Ryoma did provoke Ryoga quite a bit. _That reminds me, the water bills __are__ a little too high lately._

"Ryoma," Rinko said as she placed his bowl of cereal down in front of him. "Ryoga actually has a point."

Ryoma looked up lazily. "It's the weekend. You can't expect me to wake up early."

"No, not about waking up. But your showers. You spend hours doing who knows what in there."

A loud cackle emitted from Ryoga who was laughing in triumph. "Yeah, what _do _you do in there?"

Ryoma blinked at both his mother and his idiotic brother. "I shower," he said slowly, as if speaking to five-year olds.

"For too long," Ryoga countered.

Rinko nodded. "I'm afraid Ryoga's right on this one."

Ryoma just frowned and averted his eyes to the window. It was just the worst way to start off his day – with Ryoga and his mother complaining about the fact that he took too long in the shower. His _precious _showers. He loved them – the hot water felt so good after waking up in the morning, and the smell of shampoo and soap was so enticing. Not to mention, he could stand there and let the water run over him for hours while thinking of ways to beat his father in tennis.

This was seriously unfair.

"I don't care," Ryoma scoffed. "I can take as long as I want."

Rinko sighed as Ryoma's stubborn streak took over. There wasn't any point in arguing with him at the moment. She would just have to turn on the laundry at the same time Ryoma was in the shower so he got hit with cold water instead of warm water. He would surely end his shower quicker _then_. As Rinko went to turn on the sink again, she noticed two envelopes sitting on the counter. Her eyes lit up in recognition.

"_Oh_, that's right!" She said, taking the two envelopes in between her fingers. She smiled widely at her two boys. "Report cards for semester one came in the mail last night."

There was a moment of silence, in which Ryoga went pale. _Well, shit, _he thought. _I'm screwed. _He glanced hesitantly beside him where Ryoma was smirking, suddenly in a startlingly brighter mood. The gold in his pupils danced with amusement and his frown had disappeared. _Gaah, lucky Chibisuke. He always gets such good marks._

"Wait- so have you already looked at the report cards?" Ryoga asked sheepishly.

"Of course not," Rinko shook her head. "You know we always wait until you two are here when we open them. Too bad your father already left to do who knows what, so we'll just open them without him."

"But, we – we shouldn't do that," Ryoga sputtered. "We should totally wait for Oyaji to come. Let's postpone this, shall we? How 'bout next week?"

Rinko sighed. "No, Ryoga, we'll be opening them today."

Ryoma smirked at his brother. "Yeah, nii-san, why wait?"

"Why you little-"

"Okay!" Rinko cut in before they could continue arguing. She looked at the first envelope which had Ryoga's name spelled on the front. "Let's start with the oldest, hmm? Ryoga?"

Ryoga slumped in his chair and resigned to his fate of death. He knew it was partially his fault – he understood the work, he just never bothered to really try. He had better things to do, like tennis and playing his guitar and eating oranges. He didn't _need _to master the art of essays if he was going to be a tennis player, rock star, or work on an orange farm. In Ryoga's opinion, report cards were pointless. All they did was make Ryoma even more cockier than he already was.

"Alright," Rinko said as she unfolded the papers. "I'll just read the percent written on the sides, okay? We can go over the written part and subjects and whatnot after."

"Go ahead," Ryoga sighed. _Here goes nothing._

"So," Rinko cleared her throat. "An 85-" she paused, scanned the list, widened her eyes, and then re-cleared her throat. "Sorry. An 85, 96, 98, 88…"

Ryoma choked on his cereal.

Ryoga nearly choked too, but from happiness. _This is…how? I didn't even hand in one of my big assignment that was like worth so much…._

"…97, 86…"

_It must have been my charm and handsome looks that made the teachers give me good marks. Yup, that must be it. Thank god for good genes._

Recovering from his shock, Ryoga grinned at his little brother who looked like he'd lost his appetite to eat. "See that, Chibisuke? I bet you won't do better than me _this _year."

Ryoma frowned uncertainly. "I get good marks too…"

After finishing reading off the marks, Rinko put down the envelope with exhilaration. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled with joy. "I'm so glad," she said, "You finally decided to work hard your senior year and pull up those marks. These grades are _incredible _Ryoga. We'll definitely give you a little treat, afterwards."

"Thanks, kaa-san." Ryoga beamed.

Ryoma rolled his eyes. "Tch."

"Now, for Ryoma," Rinko opened up the second envelope. She didn't sound worried at all this time. "I know you always do well, so this shouldn't be a problem…"

She smiled and started to read, and her voice got less and less pleased as she did so. "60, 55, 71, 66, 64…"

The colour drained from Ryoma's face, and he quickly became panicky. _How is this possible? I aced every single test. There's no way – unless…they can't take off marks because I sleep in class, can they? No, they shouldn't be allowed! I just get sleepy!_

"42, 69…"

Ryoga was in bliss. He threw streamers (Ryoma had no idea how he had steamers in the first place), and sprinkled them all over the table. "Miracles do happen," he sang to himself, throwing more colourful streamers all over the place. "This is the best day of my life, to surpass Chibisuke in academics…Miracles…"

Ryoma felt sick. This didn't make sense.

"55…67…." Rinko closed the paper. "I'm sorry, I can't read this anymore."

"Kaa-san-" Ryoma started.

She frowned at him, her eyes disappointed. "I would have never expected this from you. Ryoga worked hard and decided to pull his grades up for the better, and you decided to slack off and get such horrid marks. This is unacceptable. It must be the tennis getting to your head."

Ryoma's eyes widened. "You wouldn't."

Rinko should her head sadly. "No tennis for a month, Ryoma."

"This is so _awesome_." Ryoga cried. He whipped his head towards his little brother. "Now you shall suffer like I did with long days of no tennis." He patted Ryoma's back. "Don't worry, I don't feel sorry for you at all."

Ryoma looked like he was actually going to die. Or throw a tantrum. "No." he said. He stood up and marched over to his mother, snatched the report card from her hands. "Let me see this," he murmured, glancing over at the sheet.

As he surveyed it, a smile of relief spread across his face, a smug grin accompanying it.

"Kaa-san," he said innocently. "I think you misread. See the very top of the report card where our names are? This one, with all the really bad marks…it says _Ryoga._"

Ryoga stopped throwing streamers. "Huh?"

Rinko stared at her twelve-year old son. She grabbed the report card and read the top. Her eyes widened. "You're right…" she murmured. She glanced at the one with the high grades and saw Ryoma's name in fine print at the very top. "And your grades are the high ones, Ryoma…"

"No…that can't be…" Ryoga said, eyes wide.

"It can." Ryoma smirked haughtily.

"But you said it was _mine._" Ryoga protested.

Rinko nodded absentmindedly, still staring at the report cards in her hands. "It did say Ryoga's name on the front of Ryoma's envelope, but they must have mixed up the names. After all, both of you have similar first names, so it is plausible. Besides, this all makes much more sense."

"Much more sense," Ryoma agreed.

"Hey!" Ryoga said.

Rinko sighed and placed the two report cards back on the table. On one hand, she was upset that Ryoga had once again decided to slack off and get bad grades. It wasn't that Ryoga wasn't _capable _of getting good grades; he just didn't bother to put in any effort. However, she was beyond relieved that Ryoma was still keeping up his excellent performance.

"So, Ryoga, unfortunately for you," Rinko shrugged sympathetically. "No tennis for a month."

Ryoga's face fell and he slumped in his chair. "This is so unfair."

"It's perfectly fair." Ryoma said. "Have fun with your tennis-less month, _nii-san._"

"Ugh, Chibisuke, sometimes I just want to-"

Rinko interrupted them. "Hold on. Ryoma's not getting off that easy. This morning, I got a phone call from your English teacher stating that you've been sleeping through his classes every day of the week."

Ryoma froze.

"This is unacceptable. No tennis for a month for you as well."

And Ryoga started to throw streamers again. "Miracles _do _happen!"

* * *

**I swear, I don't even know what that was. This is like…my fail attempt at humour or something. It's based on a scenario I daydreamed, which is why the banner throwing makes no sense. Because my daydreams make no sense. But you know, it was modified to make it more…postable. Anyway, feel free to leave a review!**


	5. Bittersweet

**Like A Family**

-Installment Five-

_Characters: Rinko & Ryoma_

* * *

Rinko Echizen was a busy woman. Between constant telephone calls and out-of-the-blue extra work shifts, she rarely got time to spend time at home. Maybe that was why she let Nanako stay – not only because the sweet girl needed a place to reside in, but also because Rinko desperately needed a helping hand around the house.

Her husband was utterly hopeless and her son was too occupied with tennis to bother with doing chores. Even though Rinko generally worked morning shifts, she was so exhausted when the evening came around that she went straight upstairs to her bedroom and confined herself to nap. However, that night, when she came home, something was different.

She didn't feel as tired, for one – she'd had an easy shift today. But there was something else. Ryoma seemed so _out of it_. During dinner, he didn't say a word, not even to Nanjiroh's provacations. After that, he quickly excused himself and left the house, the door slamming loudly as he disappeared outside. Rinko tried to wave it off as nothing, but her motherly instinct pulled and she decided she needed to go after him to make sure he was okay. After all, he _was _her son, whether she acted like a good mother or not.

"Where could he be?" Rinko muttered to herself. She sidestepped through a bundle of braches. Twigs poked at her pink sweater and a small hole ripped through. _Probably at the tennis courts by the temple? _The woman sped up her pace. The sky was dark and the trees stuck out like fugitives. Beyond the thicket of greenery, she saw the clearing of the tennis courts.

It was an empty night. Silence buzzed thick in the air. Rinko glanced around the familiar grounds, but she spotted no one smacking a tennis ball against the wall. She sighed. This was dumb – Ryoma was probably out on the street courts, or just wandering around like he always was. She was just about to turn around and leave when she spotted a small figure sitting by the creek.

It was a sloshing river by the courts, and as she took a step closer and squinted, her suspicions were confirmed.

"Ryoma…" the woman quickened her steps. The long grass, rarely cut, tickled at her ankles. As she got closer, she stopped and observed. Ryoma was lying down with his arms back, weight on his wrists. His head was tilted up against the moon. A tennis racket and ball lay haphazardly beside him.

"Ryoma,"

The boy jerked his head up, startled. His shoulders relaxed when he saw who it was, but they quickly tensed again. "Mom?" he asked. Rinko didn't know if she should sit beside him or not so she simply stood. The hair blew through her knotty air and she roughly pushed it aside.

"I was just…" Rinko trailed off awkwardly. She cleared her throat. "I thought I might find you here."

Ryoma didn't respond for a moment. He changed his position and pulled his knees to his chest, legs tucked comfortably under his chin. Finally, he answered with a small, "Yeah."

Rinko wondered what she was supposed to say to that. She shifted uncomfortably. Had it been _that _long since she had had a proper conversation with her son? Her heart thumped with guilt. _Where have I been? It feels like the last time I talked to him was years ago, when he was just a little boy trying to grip the tennis racket properly. _

"Are you alright?" The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. She swallowed – it was too late, the damage was done. She would just have to wait to see what he would say.

Ryoma's eyes flashed with foreign emotion. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Rinko murmured. She knew she shouldn't push Ryoma – he was a stubborn kid, and annoying him when he was upset was probably the worst thing to do. The answer she got wasn't what she expected.

"Can you just go away?" Ryoma suddenly snapped. He gripped his tennis racket tightly.

"Excuse me?" Rinko's face overwhelmed with hurt. She didn't understand this, but his words felt like a stab to her chest. How could he just say that, after she had come all this way just to see what was wrong with _him, _for _him, _because she cared about _him. _"I don't believe I heard you right."

"You did," Ryoma said. He stood up and swung his tennis racket over his shoulder. "If you won't go away, then I will."

With that, he started to walk away, but Rinko wasn't about to let her son do this to her. She _was _an Echizen, after all, and stubbornness was a trait the entire family had inherited. With a firm march, she stomped over to her son and stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder.

Ryoma looked over with a glare in his eyes. "Let me go."

"Ryoma," Rinko said, and her eyes showed deeper hurt than before. "I don't understand. I just want to help you because you seem upset. Because I'm your mother_._"

Ryoma stood still for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was indifferent, angry. "Yeah? Well, _mother_, where were you for the past few years of my life? Where were you when I won the Nationals? Where were you when I was departing to America to play in the US Open? Where were you _then_?"

Rinko stood frozen. She felt like she had been hit with a ton of bricks, and her heart felt like it was shattering into tiny little pieces. She suddenly felt angry and guilty – at herself, for being so selfish, and at Ryoma, for being so blunt and harsh about it. When she opened her mouth, she expected words of defense to spill from her lips. After all, she was never one to accept she was wrong.

She was surprised when a single word came out of her mouth.

"Sorry."

Ryoma flinched at the word, almost like it had burned him. "It doesn't matter," he said bitterly. He started to walk again, up towards the forest that led to their small shrine. Rinko clenched her fists at her sides, and then hurried to catch up with him. Her steps fell alongside her son, and she saw him stiffen.

"I'm sorry Ryoma," she said, her voice soft. Ryoma looked away, as if he was trying to ignore her. Rinko felt the pain in her heart grow, and her eyes stung. What had she done? How many years and memories had she shut out and missed? Had work gotten so important that she'd forgotten about her very own son?

"Please, try to understand…" Rinko pleaded. She couldn't bear the hurt.

"Understand what?" Ryoma mumbled. He bounced his tennis ball against the rim of his sideways racket. "There's nothing to understand."

Rinko took a deep breath, and straightened her back. "Understand that I made a mistake, and it won't happen again."

Ryoma shrugged. "I told you, it doesn't matter."

"Don't lie to me," Rinko surprised herself with the firmness in her voice. "Just a while ago, you were angry at me. You probably didn't mean to start saying that stuff, but I don't want you to pretend everything is okay. I know you're mad at me, and I want you to accept that out loud."

Ryoma kicked at a pebble. His voice was tight when he spoke, "You know what, I only show my emotions to people who _deserve _to see them."

Rinko was shocked once again. She didn't know her son could be so harsh – she didn't know he could be this _cold. _It felt horrible, like all the warmth had seeped out of her. Did her own son hate her? The thought was terrifying, and it made her hands tremble. She tucked them into her pocket. "I'm sorry Ryoma, I really, _really _am."

Ryoma took a breath, a shaky one. "I said it doesn't matter."

"_Please _Ryoma," her voice rose to a screech, and she could feel the tears she had been trying to hold back release. They spilled down her cheeks but she hoped the dark would hide them. "I'm sorry, I'm really, really sorry-" her voice cracked, and she smoothed it out. "I'm sorry for not being a good mother like I should have been, but please, I'll try harder, I-" she gulped hard, "I _love _you Ryoma, I really do."

Ryoma stared at his mother's broken face. He swallowed hard. "Oh-" he paused. "It's okay."

Rinko stopped in her tracks. "It's – it's okay?"

Ryoma offered her the tiniest of smiles. "Yeah, I forgive you…" he sounded uncomfortable. "Uh, mom. Yeah, I forgive you."

If there was a moment when Rinko felt most happiest, it was this moment. Her whole chest lifted in relief. She rubbed the tears away from her eyes. She felt like she could jump, fly, fall off a bridge and she would still be happy. Her son had _forgiven _her. He had smiled at her, something that hadn't happened in forever. She couldn't remember the last time he had smiled at her like that. Like they actually shared a bond.

"So," she said. A smile bloomed on her face. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Ryoma looked like was going to refuse, but then decided against it. "Nothing, just…you know, I think Karupin's getting sick."

"_Oh_," Rinko thought, horrified. Karupin was like Ryoma's best friend. "Oh, _sweetie, _that's _awful._"

The boy nodded absentmindedly. "We need to take him to the doctor."

Rinko didn't know how she was supposed to comfort Ryoma. It was just so hard, because Karupin was so, so special to Ryoma. If Rinko wasn't mistaken, Ryoma probably liked Karupin better than _her. _"We will," she insisted, trying her best to sound soothing, "and he'll be fine, okay? Don't you worry, Karupin's a strong cat."

"I know he is," Ryoma's voice wobbled. He bit his lip hard. "But _still. _What if?"

Rinko felt the urge to reach out and hug her little boy. He sounded like he was trying hard not to cry. However, she knew Ryoma wasn't the touchy-feely type, so she refrained. Despite how bad she felt about Karupin, she kind of felt giddy too. Ryoma was talking to her – expressing his problems to her. She bet he didn't even show Nanjiroh emotion like this. It made her so happy that Ryoma felt like could talk about his worries to her.

"It'll be fine," Rinko said with a warm smile. "I promise, okay?"

Ryoma glanced up, and the moonlight shone on his cheek. He smiled again, bittersweet, but Rinko only noticed the sweet. "I hope so."

Rinko stood there, her heart exploding. She wanted to stand there and memorize that smile of her son – her s_on, _god it had been forever since she had talked to him. Even though Ryoma was smiling, his eyes were empty, but Rinko was too excited to notice. She felt like their broken relationship was being pieced back together, quicker than she would have expected.

The rest of the walk was peacefully silent, aside from the thwack of the tennis ball as Ryoma bounced it up and down on his racket.

When they walked into the house, Rinko felt so much lighter. They were _getting _there – and she would do everything in her power to restore their relationship. But when they stepped into her house, her heart sunk.

Ryoma walked straight towards Nanjiroh with a smirk on his lips – _real _joy in his eyes as he bickered – not even glancing back at her as he went. She felt her fingers sink into her palms tightly, her lower lip quivering.

"Yo, seishounen, where have ya been? Cryin' about Karupin again?" Nanjiroh smirked, before reaching over and ruffling the boy's hair. "Don't worry, we'll take her to the vet tomorrow. For the meantime, how about you cheer yourself up with this magazine…"

Nanjiroh slyly shoved a porn magazine under his nose. Ryoma rolled his eyes and pushed it away, a smile, a _real _one, on his face. His eyes were full, not empty. "Whatever Oyaji, keep your stupidity to yourself."

"Seishounen, how mean!"

And as Rinko stood there, she felt the happiness drain from her body. A cold, empty feeling was left in her stomach. She suddenly realized how dumb she was – the _that's okay_, that Ryoma had said to her was fake. The smile was forced. The whole thing was act, for _her, _so she wouldn't be left broken. The only reason he had lied was because she had started crying. She had always thought Nanjiroh was kind of a careless father, but he proved to be a better parent then she had ever been. He had been _there _in Ryoma's life.

And as she saw them interact, so freely, she realized although Ryoma had said it was okay, he would never actually forgive her for the years she had missed.


	6. Needles Part One

**Like A Family**

_Installment Six – Nanjiroh and Ryoma – Part One_

* * *

"It's too early for me," Nanjiroh protested, eyelids half-closed. "Rinko-o-o, why can't you just take him?"

Rinko was smartly dressed, her sleek brown hair pulled into a bun. She stood by the front door, hand touching the doorknob. "_Honey_, don't be so lazy. You know I have work. If _you _worked instead of sitting around the house doing nothing, then you would have a leeway too."

"I do work!" Nanjiroh cried, monk ropes flapping as he tried to stop his wife from leaving. "I ring the bell at the temple! I'm a proud monk!"

Rinko bit her lip and slung her office bag over her shoulder. Even though her husband was normally whiny like this every day, she understood why he didn't want to comply this time. Still, she wasn't going to call sick for work when Nanjiroh was here with nothing better to do. "Look, I know Ryoma can be a bit _stubborn_ at these doctor appointments, but-"

"_Stubborn_? Do you remember when we took him there when he was four?" Nanjiroh shook his head with refusal. "Ch', he _bit _me, don't you remember that Rinko? Do you want your poor husband to get bit?"

"He didn't mean to, he was only trying to defend himself…" Rinko giggled slightly at the memory. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. Ryoma's twelve now. He's different."

"If by different you mean more uncute," Nanjiroh muttered, resigning to his awful fate. "So uncute nowadays, going around acting like he's better than his old man."

Rinko smirked as she disappeared behind the front door. "That's because he _is _better than you, sweetie,"

"He- hey!" Nanjiroh said, but the door had already slammed shut.

* * *

"I'm sick," Ryoma said when Nanjiroh promptly barged into his room.

Nanjiroh skipped over to where Ryoma was lying in his bed, covers pulled over his nose so only his bright gold eyes showed. He smirked slightly at the innocent look his son had resorted to, but Nanjiroh was an expert at figuring out lies, especially from his baby boy. Without a second thought, he ripped the covers off of Ryoma's body.

"Rise and shine, Seishounen!" he sang.

Ryoma shivered from the cold, and bolted upright. "I said I'm sick,"

Nanjiroh chuckled briefly. "Don't lie to me young man, you're just too scared to go get your needle. Isn't that crazy? My boy scared of needles! You know when _I _was your age, I wasn't scared of anythin'! You gotta conquer your fears, not hide from them!"

"I'm not scared," Ryoma huffed, and flopped back down onto his bed. He rolled over so he was facing away from his father. "I'm sick. Go away."

Nanjiroh shook his head. This simply wouldn't do. "Ryoma, this isn't good. If you can't even get a needle, how will you get the girls? They want _men_, not wimpy girls who can't handle a large pointy thing pressing into their flesh."

Ryoma glared at him at the mention of a 'large pointy thing pressing into his flesh', "I'm not lying. I'm sick. Leave me alone." With that, he buried his face back in his pillow, hoping his father would just leave him be. Nanjiroh had other ideas.

"Oi, Ryoma," Nanjiroh said a bit more sharply this time. "Your old man's waiting."

Ryoma shifted on the bed. The bright sunlight that streamed in through his window told him it was past early morning and almost afternoon. The boy snuggled up against the pillow. "I'm sick," he repeated, and he wondered why his dad just couldn't understand that. "They can't give you needles when you're not feeling well."

"Sick my ass!" Nanjiroh exclaimed, his good mood vanishing. He should have known Ryoma would be stubborn about this. "If you don't get up right now, I'm gunna carry you off the bed young man!"

"Carry me?" Ryoma asked wearily.

Nanjiroh crossed his arms. "Yes."

The last thing he needed was to be scooped up and thrown into the shower by his father, so Ryoma complied and stumbled to his feet. He stretched his arms and yawned, rubbing his eyelids. Meanwhile, his mind frantically sought escape. _Maybe I can trip on the tub ledge and pass out… _he thought.

Nanjiroh smirked in satisfaction. "That's my boy! Go get ready!"

Ryoma growled, feet hitting the cold hardwood floor. "I'm not getting a needle."

"Sure you're not," Nanjiroh grinned smugly. "Heheheheh, this is gunna be so fun, seeing that long sharp needle punctured into your arm."

Ryoma responded by slamming the bathroom door shut extra loudly.

* * *

Nanjiroh hummed a song-off key, newspaper splayed before him, legs crossed under the table. He really was in the mood for some nice bell-ringing and then maybe a little match with his son. The only thing that wasn't fun about seeing Ryoma get stabbed with a needle was that his arm hurt too much to play tennis afterwards.

Ryoma slipped down the staircase quietly, his socks dragging across the tile floor. He frowned when he saw the empty table. "What's for breakfast?"

Nanjiroh was enticed in his newspaper, which confidentially held the contents of his favourite magazine. Without looking up, he flicked his hand towards the fridge. "Dunno, go get yourself some milk and put in the toast."

"Oyaji," Ryoma's lips formed into an automatic pout as he dragged himself over to the fridge to get out the milk. As he dug his head into the cold air, he called out, "By the way, after I eat, I'm leaving to go to tennis practice."

Nanjiroh smiled with amusement. "Practice? Tch, didn't think that old hag made you practice on the weekends."

The fridge slammed shut and Ryoma came out with his arms full of two cartons of milk. He dropped them onto the table. "Well, it turns out there is."

"Oh, _really_?" his father drawled.

"Really," Ryoma said snappily, nearly ripping apart the top of the milk carton. He took a long, frustrated gulp. He could feel his father's narrowed eyes burning into his skin, but simply willed himself to calmly keep drinking.

"Just to be sure there really is tennis practice," Nanjiroh closed his newspaper and magazine simultaneously. He took a sip from the coffee beside him. "I think I may have to call that buchou of yours. After all, don't want my son lyin' too me, do I? You aren't lying, now are _you_?"

Ryoma dropped his head. His father just_ loved_ messing with him. "Fine. There's no practice," he admitted grudgingly.

"Aha!" Nanjiroh cried in triumph, standing up abruptly "Caught!"

Ryoma looked at him with a blank face. "Oyaji, please refrain from acting like a two-year old."

Nanjiroh gave him a look before plopping back down onto the chair. He took another long swig of his coffee and eyed his son as Ryoma sat down and started sipping cutely from the milk carton. It was a shocker that such an adorable kid was just a brat. Nanjiroh tapped his fingers against the table, waiting for the inevitable to come. Any second now…

"Oyaji," Ryoma said. "I can't go."

"Can't go _where_?" Nanjiroh said with a tease in his voice.

Ryoma mumbled incoherently.

"What was that?" Nanjiroh asked loudly.

Ryoma glared at his father darkly. "The doctor's office!" he spat. He slumped his body against the chair, an inconceivable frown on his face. "I 'aint getting a needle."

"Why?" Nanjiroh pressed, the same grin firmly planted on his face. "Could it be that you're s_cared_?"

"No," Ryoma said, sitting up a little straighter. He pushed the milk carton away and stared out the window. "I just don't like them."

Nanjiroh sighed and rested his chin on his knuckles, elbows supported on the table. "You really are a baby when it comes to needles, son," he shook his head admonishingly, "Look, I don't want to waste my time either, but your mother is going to _kill_ me if I don't get you to that doctor's office on time."

"So?" Ryoma said calmly, "She can kill you all she wants for all I care."

"How mean!" Nanjiroh feigned hurt, but the wide, mischevious smile remained. He was rather in a good mood today, despite having to take his son to get a needle. In fact, it was almost entertaining watching him try to squirm his way out of it. "Don't worry Seishounen, it only takes two seconds, and it doesn't even hurt!"

"That's what the nurse said too," Ryoma said spitefully. "And it turned out she lied."

"Nah, you're just a baby," Nanjiroh chuckled, "You know, have I mentioned when I was your age I wasn't scared of anything?"

Ryoma paused for a moment, gaze lingering on his father. "Oyaji, weren't you freaking out about that spider a few weeks ago?"

"Spider?" Nanjiroh echoed, and a flustered expression quickly took over his face. "Oi, don't laugh at me! That's too much attitude young man – hey, I see that smirk! I wasn't freaking out! Seriously! You must have been hallucinating!"

"Whatever," Ryoma said, the smug smirk still on his lips. It quickly turned into a frown. "I'm not getting a needle, and you can't make me."

"_Really?"_ Nanjiroh said, and amusement splayed on his face. "I can't make you?"

Ryoma swallowed. "Really."

* * *

"Put me _down!_" Ryoma hollered as his father carried him down the front porch.

"Now, now, Seishounen, lower your voice," Nanjiroh tried to hush him, but Ryoma really was having the time of his life waking up the neighbours. The boy squirmed in his arms, trying to escape, but Nanjiroh only tightened his grip. At one point, he felt Ryoma's foot connect with his stomach, and groaned at the leg-power.

"Hey, cut that out!" Nanjiroh barked.

"No!" Ryoma struggled. "Put me down!"

_Not a chance,_ Nanjiroh decided, holding him tightly as they got into the car. Ryoma tried to kick him again, but Nanjiroh kept his foot in place and shoved the boy into the front seat. Before he could jump out, he forcefully buckled the seat belt and slammed the door shut. Nanjiroh hurried to the driver side, opened the door, got in, and locked the doors.

"Great," Nanjiroh said cheerfully. He quickly changed the lock-option so only the driver was able to permit opening the doors. "You're trapped."

Ryoma glared at him, before slumping his shoulders. "You didn't have to carry me," he grumbled

"You're telling me you would have willingly gotten into the car?" Nanjiroh snorted. He began to drive out of the driveway, much to Ryoma's displeasure. The boy tilted his head towards the window, where the trees and road lines passed by in a blur. He couldn't believe his father was _forcing _him to get a needle. He knew his mother would have, but he was sure his father would have believed his 'I'm sick' lie. Since when had his father gotten so attentive, anyway?

He hadn't even got time to bring Karupin because his father had most literally scooped him up and carried him into the car. Without Karupin by his side, Ryoma was certain he was going to die today. He quietly sent his blessings to his kitten, before closing his eyes, bracing himself for the last hour of his very short life.

"Ryoma," Nanjiroh poked his shoulder. "You won't die."

"I will," Ryoma said tiredly. He glowered at his father. "It'll be all your fault, too. And then you can feel guilty."

Nanjiroh shook his head with a sigh. "Che, my boy really is mada mada dane."

* * *

**Sorry for the abrupt ending, but as I've stated before, I do these installments in 2000 word parts, so since this already reached 2000 words, I'll probably have a second part updated soon. This was really fun to write, LOL! :D I hope you liked it!**


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